THE TWANG OF A BOWSTRING
"I'D like to do that first-rate," Roger replied, at the same time
passing hastily over to his horse, in order to get the bow, with his
quiver of arrows.
"It just happens, luckily," Dick whispered, having fastened his horse
to a tree, "that the wind is in our favor, because we're to leeward of
the elk, and they will not get scent of you creeping up."
"How about cover?" asked Roger, as, with a hand that trembled a little
in spite of his efforts to appear calm, he commenced to bend the stout
hickory bow on his knee, and slip the loop of cord over the notched end.
"You'll have to pick your own as you find it," came the reply. "I
didn't have a chance to see what it was like; but there ought to be
some way to creep close up, so as to get in a shot. I only hope you
manage to put an arrow where it will count. Some elk steaks would
taste pretty fine, let me tell you, Roger."
"I'll do my level best," was the reply of the archer, as, having
arranged the otterskin quiver over his left shoulder, so that he could
quickly pull out a second feathered shaft, should it be needed in a
hurry, he fitted the one he had retained to the bowstring, and then
prepared to advance toward the spot where Dick had noted the feeding
elk.
"Easy, now, Roger," for Dick knew the other's failings, and many a time
had his admonition stilled a tumult in the heart of the nervous lad,
causing him to get a grip on himself, and come out of some enterprise
with credit.
Roger was a born hunter, at least. Few border lads could creep up on a
suspicious quarry more quietly than he. Part of this was an inherited
trait; but he had also been much in the company of a young Indian brave
who used to visit at the St. Louis settlement before his people went
further West; and from him Roger had picked up many valuable points.
He now bent down, and glided noiselessly along until he could see
through an opening in the underbrush, when he, too, caught sight of the
elk.
The sight thrilled the young hunter, and caused him to shut his teeth
hard together as he resolved to do his very best to get in a fatal
shot. The fact that he knew his cousin would surely be watching him
seemed to lend Roger additional faculties; and when he finally dropped
down, and commenced to do his creeping, he was in a mood to excel all
previous efforts.
Once in a while, as he "snaked" his way from bush to bush, taking
advantage of every possible screen, the lad would lift his head just
a little to take an observation. And thus he learned that there were
three elk in the band, as far as he could see just then, although
others might be lying down where they were hidden from observation.
First there was the buck, a big fellow with a pair of towering antlers
that looked particularly dangerous; then there was a cow; and finally a
half-grown calf.
It was upon this last that Roger had fastened a covetous eye, for he
knew that the meat of both the older animals would very likely prove
pretty tough eating, and just then he was after a supply of food,
rather than a skin from which to make moccasins, or a new fringed
borderman's jacket.
As his cousin had said, the wind was just where he most wanted it,
blowing directly from the feeding animals toward the place where he
was edging his way along, foot by foot, careful not to make the least
movement that the elk might notice and take the alarm.
Keeping a close watch upon them now, Roger tried to suit his movements
to their own; that is, he waited until the three had their heads down
while cropping the sweet grass that grew in the glade. At such a time
he crept a little closer.
These golden opportunities did not come as frequently as he wished, for
it seemed to him as though the elk had some arrangement whereby they
took turn-about in keeping a suspicious eye around, one doing this duty
while the other two fed. Still, now and then a chance came, of which he
was always quick to make use.
Ten, fifteen minutes had passed, and by that time he felt that he was
in a position to make a fair shot if it became necessary to do so in
a hurry. He figured on trying his skill, even should the elk suddenly
take the alarm, and start to run away. Roger had practised long and
devotedly at moving targets, and delighted in being able to hit a
running animal, just as an Indian, born to the bow, might have done.
Still, he felt that he would like to get a little nearer to the
youngster before trying to get in his work. Fresh meat meant a good
deal to them just then, since it would fill a long-felt want, and at
the same time help to preserve their priceless ammunition. And under
these conditions the boy was bound to make as sure of his aim as
possible.
With most species of ordinary antelope and deer the young is called
a fawn; but even in those days, with so large an animal as an elk,
a moose, or a buffalo, it was known as a calf; and so the boys had
learned to term it.
Peering out from behind the clump of bushes that served him as his last
screen, Roger saw just one more good hiding-place close at hand, if
only the chance arose whereby he could reach it.
He did not want to lie flat on his face from now on, and wriggle along
like a crawling snake; because while in that position he would not be
able to shoot quickly, should the elk take the alarm.
So he meant to wait again until all three of the animals seemed to
be engaged in feeding, when he would creep stealthily forward. He
could keep his eye fastened on the elk, and if one of them started
to raise its head Roger would instantly become as rigid as a stump;
and possibly, if the animal noticed him at all, it would take his
motionless figure for some such harmless thing.
But fortune was very kind to the young hunter. He managed to gain the
new covert without having to halt once; which he considered a lucky
thing indeed. And it can be set down as certain that, having held his
breath pretty much all the time he was making this critical change
of base, Roger heaved a great sigh of relief when he found he had
succeeded in his undertaking, and that, so far as he could see, the
usually timid elk had not shown the least sign of alarm.
Now would come the test of skill, when he was to gradually raise
himself until on his knees, and, taking sure aim, send his
keen-pointed arrow straight at the flank of the youngster, fortunately
nearer to him than either of the others.
Roger tried to still his rapidly beating heart. Strange how excited
he always grew at a time when he needed all the coolness he could
summon. Had it been Dick, the chances were that he would be perfectly
self-possessed under similar circumstances, and able to do his level
best; whereas a fellow who finds himself trembling as with the "buck
ague" is placed under a handicap. And yet Roger had brought many a fine
deer low with his trusty gun, during all the time that he had ranged
the woods and open country in search of game for the family at home.
Having in some measure managed to get control over his nerves, he now
prepared to carry out his plans.
First of all it was necessary that the elk be feeding at the same
moment, and it seemed to the impatient Roger that one of them was on
the lookout all of the time.
But in the end his chance did come; perhaps in less time than he
imagined, for Roger was apt to count seconds as minutes when laboring
under such a strain.
No sooner had the big buck lowered his head than gradually the form of
the hunter arose from the midst of the clump of grass. The sturdy bow
was extended, clutched in a hand that no longer trembled, but was as
firm as a rock; the other started to draw back the arrow, the notched
end of which was fitted on the taut cord.
Roger could have asked for no better chance than the one now presented
to him, for by the greatest of good luck the side of the calf was
toward him, and its left foreleg advanced, giving him a splendid
opening to speed his arrow straight at a vital point behind that same
shoulder.
So Roger let fly. The hurtling shaft shot through the sunlight like
a thing of life, the eagle feathers with which it was plumed simply
showing to a practised eye the direction in which it sped.
There was heard a slight thud as the arrow struck. The calf was seen to
start violently, while both the buck and the doe looked up, and jumped
several feet.
Then all three started to run off, though it was instantly seen by the
young hunter that the calf faltered, and grew weak from the effect of
the death-dealing barb that had pierced its side.
Roger had instinctively thrown up his hand and drawn another arrow from
his quiver, which he was even then adjusting to his bowstring. He had
several reasons for doing this. In the first place his hunter instinct
advised him that it was always best to be on the safe side; for there
could be no telling but what that savage old buck would get over his
fright, and turn to offer battle to the enemy. And in that open place,
with not even a friendly tree to offer him refuge from those ugly
antlers, Roger had no heart for the job of meeting an enraged beast,
capable of doing him serious damage before Dick could come to the
rescue with his rifle.
But the young elk had evidently received a fatal wound, for it ran only
a dozen yards, when it began to stagger.
Just then, as Roger, having fitted his second arrow, was in the act of
taking a swift aim, so as to be ready to make assurance doubly certain,
to his astonishment he heard a peculiar twang that sounded like the
snap of a bowstring.
And, as he arose to his feet to start forward after the wounded
animal, just falling to the ground, he believed that he saw a second
arrow sticking from its side.
The first instinct of the hunter is to make sure of his quarry; and so
Roger hastened to run forward. He kept a wary eye on the other elk,
however, to see that the possessor of those tremendous antlers did not
turn back, with the idea of giving battle to the strange enemy on two
legs, so different from the four-footed wolves and panthers which he
had known in the past.
But somehow this did not come to pass. Either the buck failed to grasp
the full nature of the disaster that had befallen his little family;
or else, catching a whiff of human foes about that time, fear had
dominated valor. At any rate he sped out of sight, with the frightened
doe ahead of him--at least the buck was gallant enough to hang back,
and protect the rear.
Roger went as fast as he could toward the fallen calf, pleased to know
that he had been so successful in his little hunt, and that they would
have fresh meat for some time to come.
As he ran he seemed to understand, as though through instinct, that
there was some one else pushing ahead on one side of him; but, being
in such desperate haste to plant a foot on the fallen game first, he
could not even take the time to look.
He heard a distant whoop from Dick, which, however, fell on deaf ears
if it was intended as a warning. Roger was an obstinate boy, and,
having taken a notion to accomplish a certain thing, he could not be
easily discouraged or influenced to give up his design.
There the young elk lay, and in plain sight, so that, rushing up, Roger
had no difficulty in placing his right foot on the still quivering
body, by that act making it known to whoever disputed his claim that he
intended to stand by his rights.
It happened that the animal had fallen so that its wounded side lay
uppermost, and one of the first things the young hunter noticed was
the fact that there were _two_ arrows deeply imbedded there; his
own well-known eagle-feathered shaft, and one that had the token of
the gray goose fastened to its end in a peculiar circling manner,
calculated to influence its steadiness of flight.
Then, casting his eyes up, Roger saw the figure of his
rival--apparently an Indian, though dressed in tanned buckskin after
the manner of white hunters, and gripping a bow in his left hand.
The other was staring hard at the boy, as though astounded to find
himself face to face with a young paleface, never before known in this
particular section.
And there they stood, each with a foot advanced, and a look of defiance
on their faces, as though ready to dispute title to the possession of
the dead elk.